


if we meet forever now

by transvav



Series: and we could be [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Immortal Fake AH Crew, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Reincarnation AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 14:04:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10388328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transvav/pseuds/transvav
Summary: the crew goes to find him, and the crew waits to keep him.





	

deals are tacky, awkward things, that leave gavin with a bitter taste in his mouth when all is done. 

'golden tongue,' geoff told him he had. and indeed, after every deal, it felt like there was something metallic on his taste buds. he doesn't say anything, because this is a way to keep his place. 

he can't leave again unless he has to. 

and yes, he's reckless, impulsive, quick to action, slow to thought. because he's comfortable again. because he's home again and they will protect him. 

not this time. 

this time, after the deal, there is something actually metallic in his mouth, and he remembers michael jones so vividly in a solider's uniform that it's like being thrown out of his body- no- wait- 

that's the bullet that hits his lungs.

he can't remember if he brought someone with him this time. doesn't think he has. he can't remember if he said goodbye. 

dying is welcome here, he thinks. but not without goodbye. 

he grabs his phone and calls a number- any number- and waits for someone to pick up.

'tell them i'm sorry,' he says before anyone can speak. 'tell them i wanted to tell them. 

tell jeremy that bar from 28 is still in service, the owner's a friend, that he's stronger than i remember and could break his way through any barfight- 

tell michael there's a gun with his name on it and a box with his tags buried in the floor boards of an apartment two blocks down, that he's still my best friend and i'll take any shot to keep him from restarting- 

tell jack that there's three bottles of alcohol to keep her stitches clean and her boys healthy, that i never had to go to her because she already taught me what i needed- 

tell ryan that the sapphires in my jewelry drawer were ones from the first crown he wore, that he's still the smartest man i'll ever meet and ever have met and he's the prettiest and kindest at that- 

tell geoff that he was my father in every sense of the word and in every life i lived i remembered him, that i couldn't get sick again because i couldn't let him go through that again- 

tell them they were my family, that i love them, that i will come home when i can.' 

burnie tries to protest, but gavin hangs up- smiles at the ceiling of this warehouse like it's shining with stars, and he traces constellation with bloody fingers until he doesn't have the strength to keep his arm up anymore. he figures it's a good time to close his eyes. 

he slips away thinking about how for the first time in a very long time, he is dying completely alone. 

 

on the phone, burnie is trying to tell him- a warehouse, a bad deal, a message- but all geoff can think of is gavin, gavin, _gavin_ \- 

he said something out loud, because burnie says 'i'll call you back' and his crew is watching wide eyed, asking. 

geoff can't answer. 

ryan breaks first. 

'not him,' he cries. 'god, not again- we only just-!' 

and the others realize, one by one- jack chokes back a sob and jeremy punches the table so hard it might break in half (like the dare, with the desk, and the sudden flash of memory makes geoff sick to his stomach). but michael- who geoff had thought would be most vulnerable, most emotional, pissed and raging in some way of comfort to himself- michael is stoic and cold. his voice shakes, but he asks- 

'where is he.' 

 

they make it across the city, to the warehouse, a text from burnie with gavin's apologies sent in the middle of the ride- it leaves them in silence, in tears, geoff's hands shaking as he reads. 

it's the worst, when they reach the place- 

because gavin's just lying there, empty eyed, a pool of red on the concrete and the scent of death making geoff choke, and when michael falls to his knees beside the body the blood soaks into his jeans like some type of terrifying symbolism. 

loss makes him poetic. loss makes him sober. 

ryan kneels too- his pants are too dark to see much spread- pulls gavin's head into his lap and holds him there like he could still move to pull away. 

'take him home,' jeremy says, raspy and tired. geoff looks; their youngest looks older than all of them in that moment. 'please, let us have this- let us take him home.' 

it is all they have left. 

they take the body home. 

in the car they pull stark white bandages against his tan skin (but it's still too pale, paler than normal). at the penthouse they clean his shirt and pants and hair as best they can. 

if it's normal, he could come back. if it's new again. 

they close his eyes and put new sunglasses on and wait, and hope, and ask any gods possible, any gods left. 

 

the first day, jack sits by his side and waits for his wounds to heal, pours disinfectants on unclosed scars, traces stitches on his shoulder and on his chest. finds little gold trinkets and leaves necklaces around his neck. fiddles with rings and brushes his hair, refills the mug of tea anytime it gets cold in case he's thirsty when he wakes up. jack leaves a sign in the window and a letter at the front desk, hoping he will come back in his new body if not the old. 

'we will wait, you know,' she whispers into his hair. 'and when you come back, you come to me. i can get angry, and frustrated, and annoyed, but i will do my best to keep you safe this time. i haven't taught you everything, and i can teach you more.' 

 

the second day, michael turns the tv on, plays halo and peggle and legend of zelda, and talks like gavin can hear him. jokes and laughs and yells and comments. fiddles with the diamond necklace on his neck and chokes back anything he wants to say that could break him. he tugs the dog tags from the box and makes gavin grasp it, like it'll be a beacon and a guide to get him home safe again. 

'stop doing things that get you into trouble, gavvy,' he says in the middle of a match. 'you reckless little bastard. a bullet is no way to go in this line of business, especially not one went for me. that old gun's got two bullets left. they're yours to use, if you can come catch them. maybe a drag race on the piers, too. come on, gav, i haven't even shown you my favorite places. there's a spot so high you can see every part of the city, and a colony on the mountain that don't own any pants. their dicks are out, gavvy. you'd find it fucking funny, boi.' 

 

the third day, jeremy lays out hundred dollar bills on the bedside table with post it notes attached clearly to them all, scrawled out bets and dares and other things- not all his handwriting. and not all post it notes, and not all new money. his hands shake and his eyes are red and he is meticulous about it. his fingernails are stained a touch yellower than normal- the top of his hair is a pale orange yellow hue, almost metallic. his hands twitch over the most recent notes and he chokes. he crushes them in his hand and shudders. 

'you weren't meant to do this. this- it happened again, so similar, so different- you drowned, and i couldn't save you. you were choking and i wasn't there. this isn't a game, isn't for fun- you can't just up and leave like it is! please! please, just... let me do something for you. let me let you be happy again. let me save you, this one time.' 

 

the fourth day, ryan takes his hands in his, noting that they're cold, but not so discolored, paints the nails meticulously gold and adds a bit of black on the pinky of his left hand. entangles his fingers and thumbs his knuckles. doesn't go on jobs and doesn't put on the mask. there's still paint that lingers in the corner of his eyes and on the bow of his lip- he leaves it there in hopes that maybe he'll wake up and smudge it away. he fiddles with sapphire rings and traces curves in gavin's forehead, like indents from crowns are meant to be. 

'i loved you,' he croaks. 'i still do.' 

there is nothing more to say. 

 

the fifth day, geoff pours whisky and beers down the drain, goes out to buy more, dumps those too, because he can't stomach anything when gavin's just lying there. this isn't his gavin, this isn't his boy. this is an empty shell that looks like gavin. he burns candles and turns off the lights. opens the windows and watches the city. dares to break the sanctity and silence of the boy to move him to lay on his lap and press kisses to his hair, like he did when he was elizabeth, like he wanted to when he realized. like he never really had to chance to. he promises things he doesn't know if he can buy, swears to absent gods he'll be better. 

'i can't sing,' he whispers into midnight air. 'can't do a lot, actually. can't play a horror game, can't watch titanic and not cry. can't watch more than two episodes on netflix before i fall asleep. can't run a city, can't run a crew. can't keep the people i care for safe like i want to.' he hiccups a little, and tries to control his breath. 'but if i could sing, it'd be that shitty little lullaby from when you were little. you would sleep so easy with that. and maybe this time, it'd be different. maybe it'd wake you up. maybe this time i can be a better dad.' 

 

the sixth day is quiet. 

five is the maximum, usually, for extreme cases, for regrowth, recuperation. he is nothing on the sixth, and they don't know how to proceed. they've never done this before, not with the crew. 

hesitantly, they prepare. 

jack and jeremy consider a coffin; michael and ryan insist on cremation; geoff wants to joke about gold. 

ryan and jack opt to keep the ashes; jeremy and michael say they have to be spread; geoff's thoughts stray to what he's going to tell the others.

jack and michael say on the ocean; jeremy and ryan respond with chilliad; geoff is imagining things again because gavin's fingers twitched. 

it is quiet- night falls, and it is quiet, and they wait alone in the kitchen, as the clock ticks down. like something will happen at midnight. 

nothing does, and geoff sighs. takes initiative, rings up caleb. 

 

at 12:04 am, there is a crash, and choking from the front room. 

 

gavin free is alive and well. 

as well as a lung full of blood will allow him to be. 

his body didn't heal quite like it should have. like it was a last minute decision to plug him back in, and when the time had come, there was still fixing to be done.

but to see him in a hospital bed, to see his chest rise and fall as he breathes, to see his skin a bit warmer, his eyes a bit brighter- it is a godsend and absolutely nothing less. 

 

on the seventh day, when someone is sleeping at his bedside, gavin thinks back. thinks back to what they've said, over the week, when his heart wouldn't beat and his lips couldn't move. 

this is home- of course it is, not that he could ever doubt. 

michael's dog tags are a warm weight against his chest, jack's stitches are clean and he expected nothing less, jeremy plays bad movies and eats paper through straws, ryan lays rubies and emeralds and silver and circlets, geoff spends hours both crying and insisting otherwise. 

gavin is surrounded by those who love him, those he was raised by, those that know who he is and how he goes on. 

he remembers that when he was alone before, someone had told him to keep looking. 

this time, they had told him to stay. 

 

geoff comes in later, with the rest, and takes his hand. asks him if he's here for good, if there are no more surprises, if he's out of lives save for this one. 

gavin tells him yes, and asks for a cat- he's known quite a few.  
  


this is home. they are home.

he comes home. 

**Author's Note:**

> he's fine i told you i wouldn't actually kill him off ever because i refuse to be terrible  
> here's my [tumblr](http://transvav.tumblr.com)  
> leave me comments on how i'm. NOT bad


End file.
